


Players

by Gavin_Bell



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Pining, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:53:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 21,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29558010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gavin_Bell/pseuds/Gavin_Bell
Summary: Alexandra Lindy has worked with Javier Peña for a while. She knows his reputation. She doesn't know his feelings. Or does she?Sort of set before Narcos - season 1, eventually blending into it. Using some biographical background. Javier Pena. Sexual tension. Some cursing.
Relationships: Javier Peña/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	1. Nightlife

**Author's Note:**

> I have been deeply impressed by Javier Peña from the Narcos series in more than one sense, and eventually my imagination got the better of me. Please enjoy, feel free to leave comments. None of this is meant in a disrespectful way. Javí, you rock!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> introductory chapter: some of the main characters' nightlives.

Alexandra Lindy was getting ready for her first dinner date in a long while. She was mildly excited and looking forward to lovely meal and some good conversation. It wasn’t easy to meet decent men down here, but then again, it had never been easy for her to meet decent men. After her divorce from George Lindy two years ago, she had led a disappointing single life, and by 35, she had accepted the fact that she’d probably die lonely and unloved. It was partly because of that realisation that she had accepted to be sent to Colombia. She loved her job and was devoted to the DEA. Down here, she might make a difference. She might help bring down Pablo Escobar and his narco empire. There was nothing much that would have kept her in Chicago. Her mum would have; her friends not all that much. They were all married with children and unlike her, they actually had a life. So the tall, blonde agent had packed her things and boarded a plane, and after a long flight, she found herself melting under the Colombian sun. And somehow, she had grown used to it as the weeks passed by. She had worked hard and until this night only ever made it to the bar around the corner – usually with men from the office who treated her almost like one of them, fellow DEA, some of them Search Bloc, the tough guys (you wouldn’t want to rub the wrong way), one of them being her neighbor Javier (who, she was sure, got rubbed quite a lot). They had beers and fast food and shared daft jokes. But that was as far as her social life went.  
Alex opened her underwear drawer and her heart sank when she looked at the sensible white cotton. She should get herself something a bit more daring, she thought, before she put on what was at hand and wiggled into a floral dress. She curled her hair and painted her face. Quite content with the result (not un-attractive for a middle-aged spinster), she headed out to the restaurant two streets down the block.

Jim Tanner, 51, DEA, had a soft spot for his tall colleague who he thought matched his Caucasian appearence. The blonde East Coast peach was slim and juicy with pert little tits. She was no bimbo and she didn’t seem to whore around. Apparently not even Peña had been able to shove his dick up her hole which was something given how he’d fucked all the other ladies at the office. Or maybe that was just lies.  
The agent walked to the seedy little shop with its tiny backroom and rented another video tape. It was one of those uncut amateur things again – pure filth – and within minutes he was imagining his colleague and started pumping himself.

Javier Peña had had Cristina over. The Mexican DEA was famed for his seduction skills and known to bring home a different beauty each weekend. The volatile Mr. Peña was playing the field. None of his acquaintances stayed around for long, and Javier was beginning to think that it was his doing. He enjoyed the flirting and he certainly enjoyed the sex, but he just didn’t see someone permanent in his life. Still he put a considerable effort into both getting noticed and pleasing the ladies and he secretly hoped there’d be someone out there who would actually love him. Nearing 40 and with the reputation of a manwhore, he saw his chances dwindle by the day. It wasn’t easy for him to score. Everyone had him down as a Casanova (well, the white guys had, the Latinos saw straight through him), a reputation that came in useful at times, but one that also preceeded him whenever he considered dating someone less open-spirited. He realised that he was something of a lost cause. He stood out like a sore thumb and despite his average good looks quite a lot of the women he socialised with didn’t find him dateable. Fuckworthy, yes. So more often than not he paid for the favors just like he paid for information. Some of his exploits were prostitutes, some were informants, a lot of them were both. He didn’t have to commit.  
Cristina reminded him of another professional he had been with (The girl had been abducted and raped. He had gotten her out alive but she had been in a very bad way. Javier blamed himself but found he couldn’t stay away from women like Cristina.). She was as elusive as he himself – but she was always ready to go and he loved fucking her. Like tonight. He efficiently took her from behind and she told him about the stuff that was going on in Medellín. He paid her and she left. Part of him was glad that she did.

Alex had waited outside the restaurant for twenty minutes and then accepted the fact that her date would not show. She briefly contemplated dining on her own but decided against it. It was getting late and she had nobody to walk her home. So she turned in cursing herself for wasting her time on yet another asshole.  
When she climbed the stairs to her apartment block, a young woman was slipping through the door. She was beautiful, and her eyes had the dreamy look that told Alex that she had just had sex. She was obviously a prostitute, but she gave Alex a coy smile. Alex smiled back at her and each nodded a polite ¡Buenas noches! before the woman disappeared into the night. Alex shook her head at the recklessness of these girls. She was sure she would make her way home safe though. She was equally sure of her having been a guest of her neighbor’s. Javier Peña, or Javí as most of the people at work called him, was a gigolo with a string of lovers. For a split second she wished herself into his bed, but then shook her head at herself (as if to shake the thought) and grinned. He was probably exhausted, and he wouldn’t look at her twice anyway. He was okay to work with, but he would never appreciate her as a woman, and part of her was glad that he wouldn’t.


	2. Neighbors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javier's check up on one of Gustavo's drug kitchens goes terribly wrong.

Javier realised his mistake the moment he jumped over that wall. The debris under his feet gave way and he slid and tumbled into the dip. He noticed the sicarios watching him go. They seemed quite certain that this would be it for the agent. They didn't even fire their guns at him. Not like before. It had been stupid of him to come here alone. He should have taken the rest of Search Block, but he didn't trust half of the men and he didn't want to put the others into danger for nothing. So he had snuck in on the dealers on his own and then things had gone apeshit. In the end, all he could do was run. The steep slope seemed a good shortcut, so he gathered momentum and flung himself over the low wall not anticipating how unstable the ground was. He grazed the palms of his hands and cut his fingers in a futile attempt to catch his fall. He kept skidding, and he felt the thin fabric of his shirt tear and rocks and scraps of metal cut into his arms and back. Eventually he tipped over and onto a pile of wood, impaling his hip on some vicious screws sticking out of a piece of worktop. Javier panted for air and rubbed his face. His body ached, but he seemed safe for the moment. So he ran, and he didn't stop until he'd reached the academy.

When Alexandra turned into her Bogotá apartment block that night, it was late, but the lights in Javier's apartment were still on. He couldn't go on like this forever, she mused. She knew him from work. He had arrived in Bogotá not long before her. He seemed quite highly qualified and he was part of Bloque de Búsqueda, putting his life on the line every single day to catch Pablo Escobar. The constant lack of sleep, the rushes of adrenaline, the pressure he found himself under, the danger, the hurt. One day, all of it would get the better of him. She passed his door when she heard a low moan, more like a whimper. God no, she didn't want to hear her neighbor's sex noises or did she? She stopped and listened, but there was no further sound. It struck her that he had probably gotten himself off and was now dozing, and she smiled to herself. On an impulse, she knocked on his door.  
After some shuffling and groaning Javier opened the door and Alexandra felt a wave of guilt rush over her. The man that leant heavily into the frame looked terrible. His face was bruised and blood was caking the cheek that he seemed to have run his hand across. His shoulders were sagging, and his shirt was dirty and torn. His bloodied hands were shaking. There was blood on his jeans too. "What happened?" Alexandra asked and stared. Javier took a deep breath and when he answered, he sounded strained. He had learned that Gustavo was moving one of the Medellín kitchens and he had wanted to check. During a chase he had taken a fall and slipped down a slope of rubble underneath the comuna.  
"You went into Medellín on your own?" she sighed and he rolled his shoulders. Alexandra shook her head and took in the dried blood. She feared that there was more, that he was still bleeding. "You should get that checked," she gestured at him and, taking that as as offer, he stepped back and let her into his apartment. When he turned to close the door, Alexandra saw the violent red marks across his back where he was bleeding through the shirt. Fears confirmed, she thought.  
"Take that off," she said, and he grinned and obliged. His chest didn't look too bad. There were old scars with probably some colourful stories to them, and there was some nasty bruising down his right side. "How did you get these?" Alexandra touched the soft skin around a spidery line, and Javier frowned and shook his head. He said he didn't remember, but it was obvious that he did and didn't care to share. Alexandra made him turn and sighed in response. Javí's back was a mess. The flesh was cut and broken in so many places, there was hardly an inch unscathed.  
"That bad?" he joked, but Alexandra could hear the suppressed pain on his voice. She asked him to lie down and went for the first aid kit by the door. Another thing that spoke of just how screwed up their lives were. Who else would keep these things stacked and close at all times? Javí lay down on his bed (a massive kingsize, Alex noticed) and rested his head on his arms pretending not to notice her ministrations. She cleaned the wounds carefully, put pain relief on them and then covered Javí with a clean pillowcase he had told her to find in a drawer.  
He relaxed. Cleaning the cuts had created a burning sensation, but it had to be done and Alexandra's work had been quick and caring. She had turned up the whiskey too and poured him a generous dram. When he flinched, Alexandra mentioned the blood stain on his jeans. He told her it was just a scratch but she wouldn't have any of that and demanded he unbutton so that she could push down the hem. Javier was too tired to protest and he hurt too much to pick up on the act. Near the end of his tumble, he disclosed, he had caught himself on a pair of screws protuding from a discarded MDF. Alexandra pointed out that the injuries were worse than the scratches to his back. If they got infected, he would be in deep shit.  
"You got that?" he was hopeful, but Alexandra was reluctant. The gashes were deep, the flesh around them was ferociously ripped. If she were to see to this, she would inevitably hurt him.  
"I hurt anyway," he said. Alexandra argued that probing the injury would inflict more pain, and Javier assured her that he could take it. So she set to work, rinsing the spots where the screws had penetrated with hot water, then applying iodine. Javier stayed quiet and composed. Only a slight twitch in the small of his back gave away his struggle. He was braver than she thought. Tentatively, her hand hovered over that part of his back that looked least damaged and then drew some soothing circles on his shoulder blade. Javier let out a content hum. He had closed his eyes and was focusing on his breathing. Alexandra hoped that sleep would eventually claim him. He'd be sore for some time, so he needed rest.  
Alexandra pressed lumps of gauze on the bleeding and coaxed Javier's midsection up to wrap the dressing around him. He complied and barely registered the brush of her hand against his groin. Her touch was intimate and welcome. There was nothing sexual about it. She was focused on the bandages and wanted to ease his pain. Normally, Javier would choose a partner who'd ease his pain in quite a different way. He'd still be bleeding afterwards, but he wouldn't care. This, he found, was decidedly more effective. Alexandra rested a hand on his bum and advised him to change out of the jeans once she was gone.  
She hated to leave him like that, she realised. Over the past months she had grown rather fond of Javier Peña, the man that Jim liked to introduce as the asshole. True, Javier was a playboy of sorts. He was passionate and if office talk was anything to go, by the number of his conquests was quite impressive, and he wasn't ashamed of it. He was a womanizer even at work and tended to ooze a ridicuous macho charm. His bite was brazen. And his most saucy comments were usually softened by a smile so disarming that it shouldn't be legal. His shirts were at least one size off to stress his muscles. His trousers were tight and often low rise to draw attention to his taut backside. And of course, he wasn't one for underwear. Rumour had it that he didn't want it to get in the way. But maybe his pants were just too tight-fitted. Maybe he just didn't care.  
Alexandra blushed at the memory of the soft hairs she had brushed when she wrapped the bandages around his loins. The touch of his skin had been hot. She wouldn't lie to herself. He was fit and he had a very nice ass. Yeah, she could see why women would fall for him. But she also saw another side to Javier Peña than just the physical one. Despite his obvious sexual appetite, he was a very private man. Albeit he wasn't ashamed of sleeping around, he wouldn't go bragging about it either. He was also very much in control. She had never seen him drunk or disorderly. Unlike Jim. Or particularly angry or sad. Unlike Jim. Maybe he didn't do angry or sad. Maybe he just kept them well in check. He was loyal and reliable although he supped with the Devil. He was focused and intelligent. Unlike Jim. And he was clever enough to survive.

Alex crawled off the bed dropping the first aid kit. When she felt for it where it had rolled half-under the bed, her hand met with a small cardboard box. She brought both the kit and the box of condoms (obviously ripped open carelessly and dropped in a hurry) up and placed them on the nightstand, filing away the idea of a man on the go who took precautions. Very much in control, indeed. Javí who had sat up, too, using the pillowcase as a cape, showed no reaction. Maybe he hadn't noticed the box. Maybe he didn't care. 

Javí wouldn't have minded if Alexandra had stayed. He actually liked the tall blonde woman. She was witty and easy-going and she didn't try to change him. Unlike Jim. She just played along and usually had him on, but she wasn't mean or bitchy. To be fair, he did not know much about her. She was DEA too and she very much kept herself to herself. He knew there was an ex-husband somewhere in Chicago. And she sometimes wrote to her mum. She liked the Rolling Stones. There was one record that she normally played after a long day at work. He imagined her sipping beer and wandering around her apartment, trying to unwind. She also had this faded Stones T-shirt that she loved. He had seen it on her so many times that he felt it was an integral part of her personality. She had a great body and he sometimes caught himself wondering what she might look like in a dress. Jeans and T-shirt, plus the old bomber jacket, were more convenient for work though. He was quite sure that she had never had company over. Not as certain about her not ever having stayed out. Absolutely positive that she had never turned straight into work after a passionate night. She had always smelled nice, never reeked. He wondered how she did it. How she coped without losing herself completely in another. How she managed to resist an essentially naked male body laid out before her. How she managed to keep her touch casual. Maybe he wasn't that irresistible after all. Maybe she wasn't interested. Maybe she just dealt fairly.


	3. Dinner No. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is being an asshole.  
> But so is Javier.

Jim Tanner was furious when he heard what happened. Alexandra could hear his shouting before she entered the building. He was towering Javier, assuming a similar pose to the darker man. He was lecturing his partner, illustrating his words with gestures as if he was addressing a child. Which, in his eyes, he was. Peña was an asshole. Everyone at the station knew. He was fucking people around. When he wasn’t fucking around. And maybe even then. Jim remembered the girl Javí had been shagging for about a month. She’d been an informant. He’d paid her. He’d promised to keep her safe. Yeah, well, she had ended up in some backroom, raped and tortured. That was Javier Peña for you. A selfish prick. Alright, he had gotten her out of that backroom. But he couldn’t undo the damage. He just moved on to the next whore. And women loved him! Jim wouldn’t believe it. A fucking Mexican! There were hundreds like that round here. He had no decency, loyalty or commitment. He just did what he thought was right. Never mind partners. Never mind risks. Jim hated Peña – or Javí as everyone else seemed to call him. He found himself far more attractive. For one, he was American, a genuine American. He was tall, and blond, and blue-eyed. You name it. He was everybody’s darling. Except that down here he wasn’t. People didn’t talk to him. People didn’t even acknowledge him. He needed Peña to get by. And he hated him for that.

“Bad day?“ Alexandra greeted the two men and put down her backpack. Jim sighed and told her about Javier’s fall. He had no idea how badly the other man hurt. He just made a show of describing his miscarried solo. Javí didn’t argue. He was half-sitting on his desk and had crossed his arms, glowering at Jim. Alexandra shot him a glance, and Javí shook his head. There was no point in trying to stop the blond dickhead. He hated his guts. That fascist had looked down on him since day one. Well, good for him! He didn‘t speak any Spanish, so basically he was fucked without him. Javier knew he hated the fact. He was a jealous man, and he was almost as jealous of Javí‘s language skills as he was of his ways with women. He was an asshole.  
“How are you feeling?“ Alexandra asked and Jim stopped his rant and looked almost sorry. Javier smiled and said he’d live. He and Alexandra shared a sympathetic look, then he told Jim to fuck off.

The week passed by unremarkably, but whenever the chance arose, Alexandra kept a watchful eye on Javier. He held himself well. He cleverly chose dark shirts, so no stains would show. His posture was stiff though and at times Alexandra caught him holding his side or taking deep and calming breaths. One late afternoon, she closed the Manila she had been working on. She told Javier that she was turning in and offered him a lift, and he was grateful for both the lie and the offer. They stopped at the supermarket to grab some supplies. Alexandra guessed that he hadn’t eaten properly and wanted to make sure that he did. Empanadas couldn’t be that hard to make, she told herself. Javier was surprised at the dinner offer, but found himself enjoying working with her in his kitchenette. In the end, it was he who did the cooking. Alexandra laid down her arms after she had burned several dumplings. Javier took over without reproach and it turned out he was a reasonable cook. Just as in her own apartment, there was a window looking out over the city, the majestic Andes in the distance, though Javier's window was vaster! Truth be told, the window was what Javier loved most about his bachelor pad. All of his dates were impressed by the view and he had wisely put up his bed in the window, using the bedroom as a storeroom/office. Alex found this amusing and noticed that the box she'd dug up the other night was still on the nightstand. She also noticed that Javier didn't seem to mind. After all, he knew that, living on the same floor, his neighbor was very much aware of how active his sex life was. There was no point in hiding anything. Alex admitted to herself that she was surprised he even bothered with contraceptives. Nonetheless, she found the box slightly offensive. They still squatted on the kingsize bed sharing a platter and a bowl of salsa. They talked and laughed. Javier was in good spirits, bantering with his colleague but not overstepping the mark. He found her a good match. Her rebound was close to flirting as well, but neither of them was seriously coming on to the other. Their conversation flowed effortlessly and Javier found himself opening up in a way he hadn’t in a long time. He found that he really liked Alex. The woman cared about him, and he thought he cared about her too.  
Alexandra watched her neighbor’s movements about his place and particularly in the tiny kitchen. He seemed more pliant than before which was a good sign. And yet he held himself unnaturally erect at times. Alexandra wondered if Javí’s hip wounds healed well, but she didn’t bring them up. She cared, but she didn’t want to mother him. Javí appreciated that. He had caught her staring and he knew she was dying to know. But she didn’t ask him to strip. He could have done her the favor of pulling his pants down himself though that might have come across as a bit … direct. He was healing well, and there was no actual need for her to verify. In the end, he did nothing. They finished their meal and washed the dishes together.  
When Alexandra left she gave him a brief hug, and Javier discovered that he would have liked her to stay.


	4. Glimpses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex catches a glimpse at how Javier gets his information.

Alexandra had never asked how Javier knew of Gustavo’s plans to move the kitchen. It made sense for the cartel to budge. Now, they had to be quick and act. But they needed more information. Javier offered to get it. He rang Cristina and asked her to meet at their usual bar. He had drinks on his mind, some flirting, some desperate and dirty sex. He didn’t have Alex on his mind.  
He certainly didn’t expect her to be at the Cantina, just as Alexandra didn’t expect to witness her colleague’s exploits. She had given in to her downstairs neighbor‘s repetitive nagging and agreed to some cocktails, maybe dancing. The Cantina seemed to be one of those legendary places that had no style to them. It did have a reputation though. It did make some bizarre sense that Javier would be found in this of all places. Alexandra leant back and watched discreetly as the dark man pulled a woman in a cheap flashy outfit into a brief hug. His hand lingered possessively on her back and Alex pushed the pang of jealousy at the gesture to the back of her head. Just as she ignored him leaning into the woman, caressing her arm, and running a hand up her leg and under her skirt. He was a natural, she realised, and he was enjoying it. She also realised that the stories they told about Javier Peña were probably true.  
"Javí?" Jill leant across the table, "Nah nah nah, you wanna keep away from him." Alexandra decided to play dumb and explained that they were colleagues. Jill laughed and said that that fact would not stop Javí. He was a legend, and according to Jill there was hardly a woman in town that he had not slept with. She wouldn't disclose any details, but she claimed to have it on good authority that he was good! Very good! Alex nodded and watched things heat up at the bar where Javier was practically all over his date. He was handsy, but not disrespectful, she found. Even though his company was obviously a professional. 

Javier found Cristina particularly flirty and only two drinks into the night, they found themselves in a cubicle. The sex was just what Javí had needed. And in the afterglow Cristina nuzzled into his chest and she softly told him about Gustavo’s upcoming operation. Javier’s visit at the comuna had rattled Ecobar‘s chain, and the kitchen was to be moved the following night. Javier exhaled. Damn the bastards! He needed to get a team together quick.  
He paid Cristina and they shared one passionate kiss before she left through the back door. Javier turned and ran into Alexandra. He frowned. What was she doing here? How much had she seen?  
Alex felt herself blush. This was bad timing. She had noticed that Javier and his date had left the bar, but she hadn’t seen where they had gone. She hadn’t expected to find him outside the ladies‘ and she hadn’t expected him to make out in public. Now that she thought about it, she wondered why she hadn't.  
“Are you following me?“ he hissed and Alex raised her eyebrows at that and negated.  
“You’ve been – resourceful,“ she punctuated and Javier scoffed. Alex found herself enjoying his discomfort: “The flushed look suits you.“ He couldn’t place her tone. It seemed playful enough, but there was a hint of something else there. Resentment? Disgust? It was obvious that she had seen enough to form an opinion. It was also obvious that there was hardly any room for interpretation. Everybody knew that he slept with his informants. It wasn’t a secret. So why was she being such a judgmental cow?  
Javier glared at her: “¡Que te den!“ He didn’t want to argue or to justify his actions, he just wanted her to drop the topic.  
“¡Que te den a tí!“ she shot back and walked past him. Javier grabbed her arm: “I wasn’t expecting a lecture.“ Alexandra assured him that she was neither lecturing him nor judging his behaviour. She just needed to go to the toilet. Alone.  
With that she left a rather puzzled Javier behind.


	5. Best-Laid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan, the best-laid one.

They planned the operation meticulously. The soldiers were to secure the area, Search Bloc would enter the building and help DEA and the police make as many arrests as possible. In and out in no time. It sounded easy enough. Javier Peña had marked the kitchen on a map and was drawing in positions while Jim Tanner double-checked routes and Alexandra Lindy put photographs of their targets on the wall wondering if all of them would be there that night.

“Guess not,“ Peña huffed and pointed out that Gustavo was careful. He would use the minimum of men to move the business, but they would get some of the bastards. Jim made a snide remark about Javier’s fall and voiced his doubts about the credibility of Javier’s sources, and Alexandra shrugged that she’d rate them reliable enough. Javier looked up from the map expecting another blow, but Alexandra just smiled at him and kept her mouth shut. He felt stupid - about the other night, about Cristina, about the whole operation. He was also angry at himself for feeling angry with Alexandra. It wasn’t her fault that their paths had crossed in that narrow corridor at the Cantina. He was quite sure that she hadn’t meant for it to look like she had followed him, but he could not shake that thought. He didn't know if she had heard him fuck Cristina. No doubt she had seen that kiss. Well, she hadn’t been supposed to. It was his way of gathering information. But he would not usually put himself on display, yet Alexandra made him feel as if he had.

“What? Another one of those?“ Jim picked up on it and shook his head. Peña was unbelievable. The blond agent didn’t even know where his colleague dug up the women he took to bed. He would never get what it was that the Jalapeño did to make them trust him: “The lengths you go to, man!“ Alexandra chuckled and put some sticky tape on another photograph, catching the rude gesture Javier made into Jim’s direction from the corner of her eye. She realised that Javier felt uncomfortable although he didn't have to. Everybody knew how he got his information. And Jim was constantly pushing his buttons. Usually, Javier would joke his way out. Alexandra had warmed to his sense of humor the moment she met him and she found it fun to work with him. He was flawed, but he wasn‘t a bad man. She was pretty sure that he wasn’t as tough as he made out to be. When she had come across him outside the ladies‘ the other night and he had been rearranging his pants, his lips had been swollen from kissing, his hair tousled, and his tie loosened. He had undeniably looked hot. She would only ever admit that to herself, but the encounter had stirred something in her that she hadn’t expected. Ever since, she had found herself staring at him. He pretended not to notice, and when he couldn’t pretend, he’d leave the room. She would have said he felt caught, maybe even embarrassed, in her presence, if she hadn’t been convinced of Javier Peña knowing no shame. Maybe she was wrong.

“Can we be a bit more precise about the number?“ Alexandra watched Javier stretch across his map. He kept shifting his weight, unintentionally directing attention to his firm backside in those damn-tight pants. “They’ll be ... well-equipped," she groaned inwardly and decided to rephrase, "-armed.“ He stopped circling a spot on the map and turned his head. Alexandra’s breath hitched at the sexiness of his position, very much sprawled on that desk. Javier however frowned at her statement. He had drawn in base camp and marked some vital spots and was still propped up on his ellbows. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have guessed that Alex Lindy was staring at his form. He pushed himself off the desk and crossed his arms, outstaring her in a way that he hoped was stern and calculating. He suspected she was referring to his botched job the other day. She was wondering if tonight would be going to shit as well. If they'd be shot at (most likely) and if they'd have to run for it. She didn’t trust his assessment of the situation and that got his hackles up. From her point of view, things probably looked pretty straightforward: he had been an idiot, she had taken care of his injuries, he had fucked for information and was now being even more of an idiot organising a raid on the basis of a quickie. Put like that it sounded horrible and wrong! But it wasn't. Really. To him, it was the result that mattered, not how he got there. And it was absolutely none of her business! He bit his tongue and turned on the charm.  
“You staring at my ass?“ There wasn’t a hint of his bad temper in the playful question, and Alexandra shrugged it off which made him smile. Had she? Or hadn't she? “It’s a risk-“ she began and Javier felt grounded. She didn't trust him. He said that he knew they were taking risks. He didn’t need her to rub it in. He wasn’t irresponsible, and he wasn't stupid. She hadn’t said he was. Jim threw up his arms in despair at their bickering and chose the worst possible way to shut them up: “For fuck‘s sake, get a room!“ Both agents glared at him, then Javier grabbed his vest and held out another one to Lindy, eyes lingering on her breasts in that ridiculous T-shirt. He tried not to smile and begged her to trust him. She nodded. She did trust him. With her life. The ladies aside, his work was professional and he was much more dependable than Jim.  
“I’ll keep you safe … just stay close to me,“ Javí said apologetically, rolled up his map, and walked out of the office without looking back.


	6. What's in a Shirt?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go terribly wrong again.

They had barged out of the building. Javier had kept Alexandra close all the time and knew she was right behind him. Except that when it mattered she wasn’t. Team had withdrawn and when they were pulling away Javier looked back and his blood ran cold. Alex was holding her shoulder, gun still in hand, staring at him in deadly terror. They couldn’t go, he thought, but the van was moving fast, and so he signaled to her he’d be back before shouting at the driver to stop who would have none of it, and only when Javí pointed his gun at him did he slow down enough to let the agent get off the vehicle.  
Alexandra watched in horror, unable to shout back at Javier Peña who stared at her from the passenger window mouthing, "I'll come back for you". Her shoulder hurt where the wall had caught her. For a split second, things seemed to move in slow motion. Then instinct kicked in, and Alexandra ran for her life.

In little under two hours, she made her way to pure chaos at the academy. Everyone was frantically running, screaming, pulling guns from vehicles, carrying about stuff. A young agent stopped and stared at her in surprised shock. Another seemed relieved to see her. Wiping sweat from her forehead, Alexandra stalked into the office where Team was discussing some operation.  
"-the fuck were you thinking?" she began, and Col. Suarez tilted his head while Superviser Bruce Stock audibly exhaled. Alexandra glared at the men, only then noticing that one was missing.  
"Where's Peña?" No answer. Her hands were shaking with barely controlled rage. She had thought he was her partner. She had trusted him and she cursed herself for doing so. He had left her behind! Alexandra was livid and hoped to make out his smug face in the crowd so that she could punch it. "Where is he?"  
"He went back for you," Jim Tanner called back over his shoulder, "Hasn't been back." Alexandra nodded slowly. As if. He had probably turned into some whorehouse, fucking one of his mistresses, letting off steam before boarding the next plane back to Bogotá, she told herself. It was easier to deal with than imagining him going back into Hell. For her.

Eventually, Javier was taken in in a patrol car. He was shaken and dangerously out of it, his clothes were splattered in blood. Two officers manhandled him to the cells, while Suarez took a set of photographs from a young soldier. Crime scene polaroids, Alexandra noted. God, Peña. What had he gotten himself into now?  
"This is where we picked him up, Sir," the soldier explained, "he shot four guys. Made a right mess of it. And the girl-"  
"He didn't shoot the girl," Suarez decided.  
"Nah," a more experienced officer confirmed, "nasty one. Blew the head right off. I think he knew her, snapped, and took it out on the guys." Suarez put the photographs down, and the officer pointed at a gruesome picture of a dead female, face beaten to a pulp, then shot to pieces, wearing a faded T-shirt of the Rolling Stones, trousers ripped, obviously raped, and brutally so. Alexandra gulped and picked up the polaroid.  
"No wonder he flipped," she looked at the picture, put it down and then unzipped her jacket to reveal the same Stones shirt as the woman in the photograph. The men stared at her, realising what she was implying.  
"Shit man," Bruce huffed, and Suarez barked at whoever to get Peña out of custody. Somebody swore, and Suarez bellowed for a medic before motioning Alexandra towards the cells.  
"This is not a good idea," she said, but Suarez insisted. Never mind heartbreak. Never mind shock. Peña would get over it, but he had to know. He had to see.  
Turning the corner, they met with a broken man on a narrow bench, hands woven into his hair, fighting for control, but ever so slightly shaking. When Suarez addressed him, Javier did not look up, "She's dead."  
Suarez tried again: "Peña, listen-" But Javier shook his head and declared that he had vowed to get her. Told her he'd come back for her. Promised. His voice broke, and so did Alexandra's heart.  
"She's not dead," was Suarez' reaction. Javier's reply was a whisper: "I saw-"  
"No, you didn't," Suarez insisted, "she's not. Lindy… here, now."  
Reluctantly, Alexandra stepped forward from behind the colonel: "She's not dead. I'm – not dead."  
Javier looked up at her voice, and Alexandra's breath caught at his bloodshot eyes and the haunted look in them. Javier just stared, then frowned and drew himself up to his full height before he passed out.


	7. The Girl in the Bra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex understands.

When he came to, Javier was lying on a stretcher and Alexandra was holding his hand. He blinked, cataloguing where he was. Heaven, crossed his mind. Then he noticed the drawers and boxes. Must be the storeroom. Not Heaven then. Alexandra pressed his hand and greeted him with a smile so warm and affectionate that he knew would make him go to Hell and back and happily so. For her.  
"You really came back for me," she stated. Javier gulped. Of course he had come back for her. Just like she would have come after him too. She was his partner, and he would never forgive himself if she got hurt or killed. It had been reckless to go back alone, but there hadn't been time to get a group together. And time had been precious. He knew what Escobar's men could do. He had been there before and should have been prepared. But he hadn't been ready to see Alexandra's body. Not yet. Not like that. He had seen the destroyed face, the damage they had done to what he thought was her frame, the blodied T-shirt of her favourite band that had felt like a slap in his face, and he had lost it. He had shot the remaining men and then broken down next to the mutilated shape. He still couldn't believe that the dead woman hadn't been her, that she was alive. Javier felt too wired to be thinking straight, but what kept nagging him was his reaction at the scene. He had looked at the woman and remembered Alexandra getting ready for the operation. In that T-shirt. Her T-shirt. He had remembered her donning her jacket and vest. She had smiled at him and cracked some silly joke. He had rolled his eyes and laughed. He also vaguely remembered being angry with her, though he didn't remember why. It didn't matter now. They had always made a good team. And she was beautiful. Man, that slender body could bring down any wicked muscle. She was a master of martial arts, quick, resourceful. Quite impressive. He sometimes caught himself dreaming, imagining her eyes on him (yeah, he was definitely imaginging things) which would give him an excuse for pulling her into his arms and telling her how much she meant to him. She wouldn't buy it. He had considered other plans of action, too. Like seriously flashing on his charm, buying her flowers and shit, invading her personal space. She would realise he was coming on to her. Well, he was.  
"'course I did," he said, and she shook her head and called him an idiot. It hurt, he realised. More than he had expected. So his reaction was bitter: "That's not a nice way of saying thank you."  
"I'm not thanking you," Alexandra pointed out and Javier felt even more … betrayed. Defeated. He nodded and tried to hide his disappointment.  
"I will," Alexandra relented, "but for the moment, I'd like you to have this." She unzipped her jacket and in a smooth, swift flow of motions took off her T-shirt, put her jacket back on and zipped it back up. Then she handed him the shirt. "Keep it. And I promise, as long as you do, I'll be alive."  
Javier had looked up at her and nodded. He had to be still in shock. And it had to be running deep. She had just stripped down to her bra in front of him and gotten no reaction whatsoever. Or maybe she had been wrong all along. Maybe he didn't fancy her. Maybe the stories about him weren't true after all. Maybe he was a nice guy. She stood up and walked towards the door: "You know, the Javier Peña I know would have paid the girl in the bra more attention." Her jab received an absentminded nod, "Seems to know no decency." He wasn't joking. Still, Alexandra tried again, "Not a spark."  
Javier huffed and played with the shirt in his hands. He had seen her wear it so many times. He remembered a night out with Jim when they had drunk and fooled around. Almost like three guys would have. Almost. He might have looked at her more than he had looked at Jim. He might have sat a bit closer to her than to Jim, and his arm might have rested on her shoulder a bit longer than on Jim's. The blond had gotten wasted and together Alex and he had dragged his sorry ass home. He had thrown up a couple of times on the way, and Javier could tell that Alexandra wasn’t impressed. After that, the three of them had never been out again. They socialised with Suarez and Martinez and Carillo. Javier remembered only one night that it had been just the two of them. She had worn the T-shirt. A smile crossed his face when he thought of how she’d beaten him at darts. He had had to buy her a drink and she had rewarded him with an improvised happy dance. Someone had sneered at that, but he recalled her movements as quite sensual. He stared at the shirt that obviously meant a lot to her and it hit him that he seemed to mean a lot to her too. She knew, he realised. Somehow she knew.  
"I'm glad you came for me," Alexandra admitted when she was sure that he had caught up and put her hand on the handle, "and I'm glad you made it back."


	8. Pieces of Self

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casual sex isn't just that.  
> 

Javier had been deeply shocked when they found out that the dead woman had been Cristina. 'His' Tina. Yet another hooker had put herself into danger for him or rather because of him. This was so fucked up. He sometimes just wished himself home. Wherever that was. He drove to the station where Alexandra had spread out maps and aerials on their desks. He watched her check the material in deepest concentration, avoiding to interrupt. Eventually, his partner gave him a once-over.

"You alright?" she offered and he shrugged. She saw his grief and felt touched by it.  
“I'm still not lecturing you," she went on and he rolled his eyes. Not that again! She begged him to hear her out. "You think you know these women because you sleep with them and get information out of them. But every single time they sleep with you, they are getting a piece of Javier Peña in return. It’s not a one-way street, Javí. That's not how it works.“ He was about to ask what made her so certain about that, but stopped himself when he saw the answer in her eyes. She was speaking for herself. How many meaningless men had she slept with? Alex guessed what he was wondering and replied that there had been not nearly as many as he seemed to think.  
“And yes, it was fun. It was consensual. It was casual. It was nice, but every time I gave away a piece of myself.“ Javier was still processing when their roles had been reversed. He tried to imagine her getting into bed with guys for whatever reason that wasn't love. He tried to imagine her becoming attached and getting hurt. He would be lying if he claimed that he didn’t get attached to the women he had sex with. Alex was right. He cared.  
“Make one mistake, they catch a glimpse of your weaknesses and you’re fucked,“ she continued and Javier asked about her husband. She swallowed hard. She was talking about her husband. Target had been a nice enough chap. Her husband had been the mistake. She had trusted him, and she had hoped he'd trust her too. When she had been assigned the undercover operation, he had been fine with it. When it became clear that she was sleeping with their target, he had laughed it off - only to compromise her, and publicly so. To a certain degree, she could understand, maybe even forgive, his jealousy. When he had exposed her in front of their friends and families, she had accepted the humiliation. What she would never forgive was his lack of empathy. His actions had put not only her life in danger.

"How did they know?" She meant both the stake-out and the shirt. Javier tried to piece together bits of memory. A couple of weeks ago, in the backseat of the patrol car, Cristina had pulled up the straps of her cheap dress and had felt around for her heels. She had pulled a Manila folder out from underneath the passenger seat and Javier had gently taken it from her. It was work. Not for her eyes. A couple of photographs had fallen out of the folder and Cristina had picked them up and flicked through them before Javier could stop her. She had toyed with one of the pictures and handed the others back.  
“Who is she?“ Cristina had turned the photograph around. It had shown Javí and Alexandra outside the station. Javier remembered the day. The two of them had spent their lunch break in the sun, messing about, smoking, sharing some cheese sticks and papas. Someone had been watching them. The other photographs were similar. He, Bruce, Jim, Alex, Suarez, Carillo. They were all there. The pictures kept coming in on a weekly basis.  
“She’s pretty,“ Cristina had searched his face, “she’s your type.“  
Javier had said that he didn’t have a type, but she had disagreed and asked if he was sleeping with Alex. He had shaken his head and she had grinned knowingly, “you fancy her.“ Then she had wondered if she should copy Alexandra’s look if that’s what got him off. She could wear her hair differently, and she could also get a band T-shirt.  
A band T-shirt. The band T-shirt.  
Javier had told her to drop the idea. She had never been a match for Alex. Not in a million years.

But she had gotten the band T-shirt. And she had told someone. And that someone had gotten back to him.  
Alex saw the realisation dawn on Javí and gave him a tiny smile: "It's never one-way."


	9. Nerves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javier fucks up.

It was a week later at a friend's house that Alexandra finally had another chance of talking to Javier. They had drunk, shared stories, sung, and it was in the early hours that the two agents found themselves in a quiet spot. Alexandra sipped her beer and looked up at the stars, and Javier stared at her. She was wearing a dress. His heart melted at the sight. It was black and sleeveless, a slit polo neck tube that covered her knees but allowed for glimpses of thigh. The way it hugged her figure was very alluring.  
"Now there's the Javier Peña I know," she quipped and flashed him a disarming smile that went straight to his loins. The Javier Peña she knew. The indecent one. She eyed him curiously and asked how he was. Javier broke eye contact and admitted that he felt confused. Maybe.  
His confusion increased when Alexandra quickly planted an ever so feathered kiss to his cheek.  
"What was that for?" he whispered, trying to read her. Trying to make sense of her "nice way of saying thank you."  
"You can't-" he began. She couldn't- what? Do that? Kiss him? Be serious? She surely knew about him. She shouldn't feel obliged- He shook his head: "I- I know my reputation, but you don't have to-"  
"What is your reputation?" Her eyes sparkled. She was teasing him. Everyone knew. And he didn't deny it. He was a player. Alexandra raised one eyebrow in mock recognition.  
"I'd fuck anyone in a skirt," he added and looked at her.  
"I guess I'm safe then," came the reply from the woman in the dress which made Javier rephrase. Alexandra laughed at that and toasted him, then brazenly inquired if he was good at it. Javier hesitated. This wasn't flirting. This was good-natured banter. She was taking the piss, and he let her. Still, he was good at it. Why lie?  
"That's … nice," she smiled and he felt like he was missing the point, "there's worse you could do."  
He smiled back at her. That part was definitely true. Given the circumstances, the violence, the constant pressure, there were terrible paths that he could take. Fucking his way around Colombia wasn't particularly decent, yet he was being a gentleman about it. Most of the time.  
"I think I might like you," Alexandra took a swig and stared off into the distance. Javier watched her. She was beautiful. Damn straighforward. Fuck-all brave. Honest. She was a goddess.  
"I don't deserve you," Javier closed his eyes. He didn't want to see her look at him. Frown. Smirk. Maybe she'd go for a pitying smile. Instead, he heard her breathe a sigh: "What makes you say that?"  
He still avoided her gaze: "I'm an asshole."  
"So?" So were most guys. So was her dad. So was her ex. So were her so-called friends. Everyone was an asshole. Javier bit his lower lip and cast her a longing glance: "I won't hit on you."  
The moment he'd said it he regretted it. He had meant for it to sound respectful. Reliable. Decent. It came out careless, cool, and harsh. And that was how she took it. She didn't say, but Javier noticed the way her shoulders stiffened and her face fell. He saw her smile die and he knew he was fucking up.  
"Would you marry me?" seemed a logical question, and Alexandra stared at him as if he was crazy.  
"And I wouldn't fuck you," he explained. This was about principles.  
"Shame," she said flat out, and he grinned putting one arm around her shoulders.  
"Yeah," he agreed, adding, "I'm sorry. I really am."


	10. Educational Purposes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Javí flirt without realising. Maybe.

Alexandra's heart fell when he said that he wouldn't fuck her. It was the way he said it, the resolve behind it, that shocked her. She cursed herself for falling for his charm, for thinking he'd turn her down nicely.  
"Shame," was thus her dry reaction at which Javier pulled her closer and said he was sorry. He even managed to sound sincere.  
"Fuck off," she bit back half-heartedly, but her voice was sad when she continued,"you're not the first to turn me down. Though you're about the 8th to bring up marriage. Why is it so hard to get laid?" Javier made a face and said it wasn't hard.  
"You have no idea!" Alexandra sighed and looked up into his face. He was curious. Maybe even interested. Maybe he cared enough to give her some answers.  
"No guy has ever put his hand up my skirt. Or on my ass. They never buy me drinks or even ask me to dance. They don't ask me out, and if they do … they stand me up," she recounted and Javier took a moment to process it all. When he answered, he was methodical, following her chronology. She wasn't one to be fingered like that. (In public. Too filthy.) Out of her skirt would be a totally different matter, but he wouldn't elaborate. Instead, he untangled himself to take a good look at her behind and shrugged: "It's not a great ass."  
His ribs hurt from where she ellbowed him and he hastily added that she had other assets to make up for it. Alexandra tilted her head at that and Javier was lost. She wasn't leading him on, was she? She must know the effect she had on men. Or was it just him?  
"Ahhh- I'm not sure where this is going," he admitted, and she insisted she was just trying to understand. She even offered her help accepting that her back wasn't spectacular. None of her was.  
"That's not exactly true," he breathed, glad it was dark and she couldn't see his eyes and they way they were looking at her. If she could have seen, she might not have made things worse: "Well, then what part would you get your hands on?"  
God help him! Javier's jeans stretched dangerously already.  
"Educational purposes, right?" At which she nodded. He scratched his neck, assessing her figure, then put his hands on her waist and let them wander down to her love handles, gently teasing her forward. He kept his eyes firmly on her hips.  
Alexandra looked at him and found him avoiding her. She wouldn't believe it. Her hips? Did he have the slightest idea what buying trousers with a bell like hers was like?  
"They're … inviting," he said factually and let go, immediately turning away from her. Alexandra blushed and made a mental note. Well, well.  
The drinks and dancing, Javier put down to commonsense. Men knew when they wouldn't impress. She was not the type to hang around bars or nightclubs waiting to be picked up. Colleagues would buy her drinks though. He had bought her drinks. She nodded at that.  
He couldn't believe she was being stood up though. Who would be so stupid? She was gorgeous. Yet, she insisted that it happened frequently. Or reguarly. And she minded.  
"Right, then imagine this: I finally get my shit together and ask you out-" Javier offered.  
"Where would we go?"  
"Dunno. Movie?" The word was out before he had thought it through, "NO, no movie-"  
"Why not?"  
Javier bit his lip: "Because of what I'd do to you in a darkened room."  
"Restaurant then," she suggested and he looked at her, eyes falling on her lips.  
"Focus on things going into your mouth?" he exhaled and failed to make it sound funny. No. No way.  
So he'd ask her out and never show.  
"Possibly," he admitted defeat.  
"What about coffee?" Javier stared. Was she asking? Or still testing the water?  
"You might as well ask me to take you there and then," he replied and she frowned at coffee being code. She shook her head and shrugged that she wasn't one for coffee.  
"That's the point," Javier said. She wasn't an easy fuck. She was one to be conquered without knowing it. One that would have you wrapped around her finger in no time. One that you could-  
Love?  
Javier pushed away the thought: "You're too cute. Hot. Funny. Clever. And way out of my league."  
"Thanks for telling me," she nodded and turned away. Javier tried to read anything out of her posture. What had he said? What was wrong? She kept facing away, so he listened to her breathing. It was flat, but sounded belaboured.  
"Are you crying?"  
"No," she lied and he knew, "No, I'm not." Not looking back she walked away.


	11. Getting there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javí keeps his pants on.

He had been looking for her, but soon learned that she had left the party shortly after she had left him. It was nearly 3 in the morning when Javier got home, still confused. He felt guilty about the turn things had taken and before he knew it, he was knocking on Alexandra's door. She answered it in a set of short pajamas, stifling a yawn. He could see that she was surprised to find him there, but she stepped back to let him into her home nonetheless.  
Her apartment was more or less the same size and layout as his. An open space with a panoramic view of the city and actually more Andes than his window. There was a couch instead of a bed, so she was using the small room as a bedroom. She had made more of an effort than he had, he realised – there were shelves stacked with books, a gum tree, photographs, two armchairs. There were big cushions and a stereo.  
She offered him a drink, and when he playfully asked for coffee, she told him he wouldn't like hers, but he insisted. So while he fell into the armchair that wasn't occupied by a cardigan and a book, Alexandra put the kettle on, filled a mug with 6 spoonfuls of instant coffee, then poured hot water over it. She took the coffee and a glass of water to the living-room and handed Javier the mug. She waited for him to say something, then picked up the cardigan from the chair and shrugged it on. She didn't sit down. Javier smelled the coffee, tasted it, and made a pained face. She shot him an I told you so look.  
"Look," he licked his lips, "I wanted to apologise. I didn't mean to make you miserable. I know I was pushing you away. But that was because I was afraid that you'd push me away."  
Alexandra wrapped her arms around herself: "You're … sweet. And funny, and honest. I can see why women would want to jump you." She meant it. She could see why. He was sweet. But he was also an asshole.  
Her words hit him like a blow. Sweet. Funny. She really meant it. She actually liked him. Despite his reputation. Despite tonight. She thought she saw why women would get between his sheets. Javier groaned: "Most of them I pay for-" Alexandra cut him short. She had wondered, but it was none of her business. She didn't need to know. Javier pondered his options. He could just up and leave. Not look back. He opted for: "You'll break my heart." Alexandra rubbed her eyes. She felt tired. Actually and proverbially. She knew she should kick him out. Close the door. Give it a rest. She really needed a rest. She could just go to bed. Leave him to his coffee. Forget he was there. He would surely see himself out. Eventually. Wouldn't he? Alexandra bit back a grin when she saw him take another sip of her sad excuse for a coffee. It was then that she made up her mind: "You'll break mine too then … come on. Sleep with me." She pulled at the sleeves of her cardigan and shuffled to the tiny bedroom with its single bed that was hardly big enough for one adult person.  
"WHAT?" Javier thought he'd misheard. She couldn't mean that. She didn't. She laughed as she pulled off her cardigan: "Not fuck me. Sleep. With me. You look like you need some rest."  
"So you ask me to go where I won't find it? Makes sense," he quipped and watched her disappear into the other room. Javier felt out of place. He hesitated to take off his jacket, his shoes and socks, cursing himself for not wearing any underpants. He decided to keep the jeans on but took off his shirt before sliding into bed behind her and rolling onto his back. Oddly enough, their bodies barely touched. Javier kept his eyes on the ceiling, dimly lit by the bedside lamp, while Alexandra closed her eyes.  
"Of course, you'd go Commando," she smiled, and he huffed.  
"I don't think I've ever been in bed with someone who kept his pants on because he wasn't wearing any underwear ..."  
Javier laughed nervously, "I can always take them off."  
Alexandra's no was a chuckle: "Goodnight, Javí." He gulped and wished her the same, knowing he wouldn't get any sleep.


	12. Again. Sometime.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing happens.

When Javier woke, he was almost spooning Alexandra who was still lying on her side facing away from him, one arm languidly sprawled across her shoulder. He blinked, uncertain at first of where he was and how he'd gotten there. His sluggish brain needed a moment to catch up and just as he was about to retract his arm, Alexandra turned into his embrace mumbling a sleepy "Good morning." Javier stared. All blood shot to his groin. He was rock hard and painfully aware of it. He wasn't shy. That wasn't the problem. He'd bedded so many women who had all seen him naked at some point, leaking, coming, spent. But this. Was different. This was waking up to someone he had not fucked into the mattress the night before. And with what was left of his coherent mind he hoped that she wouldn't look at his crotch.  
She didn't. She looked right back into his face, amused at the idiotic expression. Her eyes met his pupils which were dark with desire, and she knew. Of course, she knew, and she smiled.  
"You might want to take care of yourself," she gave a tiny nod towards the lower part of his body and his throat went dry. He nodded. That was it. No good morning kiss. No helping hand. Reluctantly, he got up and dressed, while Alexandra rolled over murmuring she'd see him at the office.

He didn't last long, once he'd wrapped one hand around himself, and he came hard. Had he been a vocal man, he'd probably have had her name or some expletive on his lips, but all Javier could manage was an exhausted moan when he finally got his release.

When Javier arrived at the station, Alexandra and Jim were engrossed in some argument, barely taking notice of their colleague as he put down his jacket, casting Alexandra a hidden glance, and grabbed Jim's coffee. He tried to make sense of what they were bickering about, but all he could focus on were the words she casually dropped at him. Good morning. She had said before, but Jim wouldn't know. Shouldn't know. Mustn't. One look at him told Javier he didn't already. Relief washed over him, and Alexandra smiled and handed him a file. This was a normal start into the day. This was surprisingly not awkward.  
It became awkward soon enough when Alexandra caught him staring at her ass and, naturally, called him out on it. He flinched and bit his lip.  
"I thought it wasn't a great ass," she said, and Javier muttered under his breath that its location was though. She laughed at that and playfully hit him with the Manila that she then handed to Jim who walked off with it to the XEROX, "Office sex, Agent Peña? Who would have thought?" He grinned to himself at some rather dirty fantasy and almost missed her remark on him suddenly wearing underpants. He broke his macho pose and realised that the hem of his boxers was showing where his shirt had ridden up. He tucked it back in and shook his head. This woman would sure as Hell be the death of him.  
"Can we- can we do that again sometime?" he asked after checking that Jim was out of earshot and she smirked.


	13. Hidden Depths or Dinner No. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javí cooks for Alex.  
> Alex unexpectedly comes across her T-shirt.

They had agreed on another friendly dinner and maybe -maybe- more. Javí had agreed to cook. He had put clean sheets on his bed and he had made sure the rubbers were well-hidden. The last time Alex had come round they had sat on the nightstand. He had completely forgotten about them and wasn't sure if she'd noticed at all, but he didn't want her to get the wrong idea. This was about dinner - and maybe, just maybe, more. The white tablecloth was high standard. Javier laid the table with care and wondered if he should light the candle he had bought. He decided against it. It was a dinner among friends, not lovers. With a regretful sigh, he hid the candle in a cupboard and changed into a clean shirt.  
Alex joined him in time to help. She looked gorgeous, he found, even in her everyday clothes and thick woolen socks. Especially in those socks, he noted. The intimacy of the garment stirred something in Javier that he couldn’t quite place. 

Alex had wondered about the socks. She liked wearing them around the house. If she had been going 'out' out, she would have put on shoes. But then Javí was living across the floor. This was a friendly visit, not a date. She might as well make herself at home.

Javí, she registered, had made an effort though. The radio was playing slow music. The apartment was tidy. There was a short rug on the bed, and the condoms were gone. Alex smiled at the fact. So he did have some decency. She appreciated the tablecloth. Maybe this was a date after all. She took in the cantilevers that looked extremely uncomfortable, then directed her attention to some cushions on the bed and took the liberty of getting them. When she picked them up, she uncovered Javí‘s pillow and her T-shirt half-under it. He must have been sleeping next to it for the past weeks. Did this mean he hadn't shared his bed with anyone in all this time? Alex was touched by the discovery. She had guessed that the shirt had probably ended up at the back of some drawer, but she hadn’t really given it much thought. She was oddly happy that he seemed to treasure it and smiled to herself before she pulled the pillow over the shirt. Surely, he hadn’t planned on her ever finding out. She couldn‘t figure out if Javí would be easy with it or with the conclusions she had drawn, and she didn’t want to embarrass him. She padded the chairs and invaded the tiny kitchen space. 

Javier had sliced some potatoes and was busy chopping up an onion. Alex glanced at him snuffle and make faces and gently took over. Javier blew his nose and watched her teary-eyed. She was holding up well. He was impressed. Eventually, her eyes teared up, too, and she sniffed angrily at failing to finish the job. Javí offered her a tissue and grinned: “Two people crying is not a good start into a date.“  
Alexandra was about to protest when the irony of the situation got the better of her: “It would be an even worse end to a date.“  
Javier promised that it would not end in tears, and Alex believed him. Together they finished the tomatoes, and Javí heated a pan for his papas chorreadas. He asked Alex to pass him a cup, and she was delighted to find a candle and holder as well. She assumed that he didn’t have the slightest idea the items were at the back of his cupboard and suggested they put them to good use. Javier didn’t contradict and handed her his lighter. Alexandra couldn’t stop herself from commenting on how impossibly tight his pants were and how impressed she was at there being room for a lighter in them. There was room for bigger than a lighter - the phrase was on the tip of his tongue and he kept it there. Sharing his sense of humor Alex was probably thinking the same anyway.


	14. The Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javier can keep his hands off Alex or so he says. She dares him to prove it.  
> Nothing (much) happens.

They had kept their friendly dinner the other night just that and saved the maybe more part for the weekend. When Javier went to see Alexandra that Friday night, he was wearing a hideous pair of rarely worn brown pajamas. He was clearly embarrassed about them, and Alexandra tried to hide her amusement.  
"For my own protection," Javier growled, "so you won't even get the idea of wanting to jump me." Alexandra smirked at that. The thought had actually crossed her mind regardless. They got settled, a bit closer this time, and they half turned to one another, talking. Javier drew lazy patterns on her forearm, while Alexandra rested some fingers on his chest. It seemed natural and easy.  
"You're beautiful," his voice was loving. Alexandra drank in the compliment. It sounded sincere enough. His touch was gentle, almost timid. The man was so obviously trying to impress and making a fool of himself in the process, it was endearing.  
"You're cute," she told him and he sighed. It was so hard to be so close to her without being able to touch her. Properly touch her. He faltered when Alexandra pointed out that he was touching her. She knew exactly what he was saying, what his eyes were silently asking, and he had her permission. But he didn't seem to realise.  
"I don't think I'd stand a chance if you were … forcing yourself on me," she confessed. Javier was horrified by the idea and swore that he would never do that. She nodded. She knew that he wouldn't.  
"I am tempted though," he admitted and Alexandra laughed, "and you have no idea just how much it takes to not eat you alive."  
"So you admit it," she stated and Javier frowned, "you do want to fuck me." Javí snorted, but his voice was husky when he agreed: "Totally."  
Alexandra scanned his face: "But you won't."  
"But I won't," he promised.

"Prove it."  
Javí's member twitched dangerously at her remark. "You just said you could control yourself," she challenged him. Was that an invitation? He searched her eyes for any signs but couldn't read her. He gulped and put a hand on her hip against an inner voice screaming no. Nononono. She slumped onto her back pulling him with her, and Javí rolled on top not thinking twice. He'd lose this game, he realised, when his body rocked involuntarily into hers. Alexandra raised an eyebrow at the thrust, and Javier was lost. "Where is your self-control, Agent Peña?" she teased and rolled her hips, and it took Javier all the willpower he had to stay still at the friction and to ignore the fact that there were what four layers -?- of thin fabric between them.  
Alexandra watched his face with growing amusement. His eyes were black now. She knew he had been pining for her all night, maybe all day, but she hadn't expected him to be this desperate. She had wondered. He was a good size she reckoned grinding her hips into him. She knew she shouldn't, but it was fun watching him come apart. Points to him, he didn't so much as flinch, but he was throbbing. And soaking. He wouldn't last long she supposed and tried to figure out what it would take to drive him over the edge. What was going on in his head? Why was he doing this to himself instead of simply having his way? Alexandra knew him to be analytical. He would have a plan. He knew she was game and he was playing along. At this stage, he was probably figuring out how to work through their items of clothing. He was doing the maths. And she knew how she would beat him.  
"Three," she rasped and he gave her a puzzled look, "three layers."  
He came in his pants like a horny teenager, retaining a shred of pride by biting back a moan that would have woken up the neighborhood, but he was unable to hide the aftershock in his boneless legs. He shouldn't have gotten himself between hers in the first place. There was no dignity in his struggle when he pulled away and tumbled onto his back.  
"I'm sorry," she smiled, "that wasn't fair." He agreed.


	15. Mutual Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They messed up, didn't they?

Javier changed into sweatpants and poured himself a large whiskey. Should he really go back and embarrass himself further? Would she expect him to? Would she want him to? He knocked back the drink and topped up. His body relaxed. Javier leaned against the counter and closed his eyes. He had failed, he thought. But had he really? Apparently he would not even have had to rip her panties off. He could have had her - and quite willingly too - on her back. He could have sunk himself into her, stretched her slowly, completed her. He could have taken her all possible ways all night. He could have made her moan.  
Except that he couldn't have.  
And that's what irked him. He would not have lasted if she'd mentioned her underwear - or the lack thereof - earlier. He would not have lasted if he'd pushed up her nightdress and actually seen her splayed out for him. He would not have lasted if he had actually felt her walls tighten around him. And he was sure his heart would stop if she ever were to moan over him.  
Alexandra felt guilty. When Javier had untangled himself, she had laughed. The sight of him was priceless. But she knew it wasn't his fault. Not solely. It was she who had teased him. And she who had driven him over the edge. The player had been played. How would he take it? She had watched him try to find a comfortable position that didn't remind him of the sticky mess in his lap. She had offered him her keys and suggested that he'd clean up and change. She hadn't asked him to come back. Would he though? And let her humiliate him further?  
She found herself waiting for an hour before she turned over her blanket and buried her nose in Javier's scent.

Javier let himself in quietly in case she had gone to sleep. He put the keys in his pocket and dropped his own set on the coffee table. Then he almost tiptoed across the dimly lit room. Alexandra was asleep, her face peaceful and calm. Javier froze and studied her. She breathed evenly. Her hair fell softly onto her shoulder. One strand had made its way across her face, and unconsciously her nose wrinkled slightly when it tickled her. Javier resisted the sudden urge to brush it back and run his fingers along the side of her face. The blanket was tighly wrapped aound her body and she looked happy and totally at ease. How could this creature be so dangerous? How could she sleep when she spent her waking hours torturing him? He knew exactly what she was doing and he let her because it meant he could be with her. She was playing him, and she was winning.


	16. Keys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing happened. That's why they keep saying that nothing happened.

The following morning, Javier woke with a start and found the place beside him abandoned. He pushed himself to a sitting position and was greeted by a happy voice. Alexandra was crouching on an armchair, drinking water from a glass. She was fully dressed and watched him curiously.  
“You’re running late,“ she said and pointed out that they would have to be at the office by 8. Which left him about 7 minutes. Javier got up and ran a hand through his hair. She would not wait for him. But she would have his back.

Cursing under his breath Javier left Alexandra’s apartment and hurried across the hallway. His door wouldn’t open and he banged a fist into it before he realised that he had Alexandra’s key. His was still at hers. He turned back and almost bumped into Suarez who eyed him suspiciously.  
“Going for a new look?“  
Javier was aware of his outfit, but gave his colleague an arrogant shrug. He could totally pull this off. Suarez was just about to disagree when Alexandra’s apartment door opened and the woman stepped out into the hall. Noticing Suarez, she hid the hand that held Javier’s keys behind her back, but she wasn’t fast enough. The older man‘s gaze wandered from Alexandra to Javí and back again and a knowing smile spread across his face.  
“It’s not what you think,“ Javier quickly said, but Suarez’s smug impression just intensified.  
“You’ll be late,“ he mused, “both of you.“  
“All of us will,“ Javier added and Suarez turned away and made towards the stairs, “If word gets out at the office, I swear, I’m gonna kill you.“ Suarez spun back and stared Javier down who felt exposed.  
“If word gets out, I swear I’ll make assumptions as to where you turned in from at 7:30 in the morning,“ Alexandra’s voice was cool and collected, and Suarez paled. She wouldn’t do that surely. The wife would fly into a fit. He scanned Alexandra's face.  
“Nothing happened, can we agree on that?“ she asked, “nothing. At all.“ Both men nodded and Alexandra handed Javier his keys in exchange for hers.


	17. Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing?
> 
> Well ... not exactly nothing. Chapter fused with former "Addendum."

That night, they did not sleep together though each of them lay awake wondering why they didn’t. Maybe Suarez’s comment had had a much deeper impact than they would ever admit. Maybe his comment had made them realise how silly they were. Maybe they should have let him talk. Maybe they should give him something to talk about. Maybe not. Maybe they just woke up. Maybe they didn’t care that much about one another. Maybe they did. Maybe they were scared.  
The faint knock could have easily been missed. Alexandra lifted her head off the pillow and listened. There it was again. A shy sound of knuckles brushing wood. Alexandra waited, telling herself that she must have misheard. There would be no one at the door. Why would there be? And who would it be? She knew exactly who it would be and why he was there. At least she hoped she knew.  
Another knock. Alexandra got up and shuffled into her slippers. Then she heaved a sigh and walked to the door where she froze. She put one hand on the frame and quietly asked who it was.

Javier turned away. She must be asleep, he told himself. She would not have heard him. And if she had, why would she open the door to him? She wouldn’t even know it was him. Liar, whispered a voice inside his head. She would know. Who else would come knocking at her door at 2 in the morning? And she would know his intentions. Except that she wouldn’t. This wasn‘t about fucking her senseless. Not that he would have minded, but at the back of his head, something pushed him to be slow and gentle. To imagine tender love-making instead of the usual violent sex. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, adore her. He was in deep shit.  
He was in love.  
Javier held his breath when he heard a muffled voice ask who it was. His heart missed a beat and for a split second, he pondered to run. Pretend he didn’t hear. But against that basic instinct, he found himself whispering back. 

Alexandra smiled to herself when she heard Javí’s voice and unlocked the door to let him in. Javier stared at her and bit his lip, the very image of innocent corruption if you didn’t know better. Still, he seemed genuinely lost, Alexandra thought and gave him a minuscule smile.  
“I couldn’t sleep,“ he ventured, and Alexandra’s smile turned into a grin, “I missed you.“  
Alexandra closed the door behind him and waited. Javier struggled for words.  
“What do you want?“ she asked softly and the look in his eyes reminded her of a scared rabbit. Would he run? She could practically see him consider that option. Yet, he stayed and stared.  
What did he want? Her. For tonight. And forever. Be with her. All over her. Inside her. Alexandra watched the thoughts play out on his face and wondered how he would put them into words. He’d probably grab her face and kiss her.  
“I don’t want to fuck this up,“ he eventually said.

“You won’t,“ Alex smiled and beckoned him to follow. He shed his clothes along the way. When she turned, he had gotten down to his boxers. She sat on the bed and beheld the sight. He was genuinely handsome, from the confident smirk on his face to the narrow waist. Alex stared hungrily at the broad shoulders and imagined them to be strong enough for her to cling to. Javí’s smile broadened as he watched her check him out as if he was the hottest thing she had ever seen. Maybe he was. He hoped he was.  
Alex said that she liked his shorts.  
“Wanna try them on?“ he offered and lowered the waistband an inch. Alex laughed and dared him to strip. His voice was coarse as he stepped closer still toying with his shorts. Then he sat down next to her and stopped. It was a game. A challenge of sorts. The stakes were high. Alex looked at him and sighed. Then she took off her nightdress. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. It seemed that he had had a bad influence on her. Javier’s gaze wandered from her breasts into her lap and she spread her thighs ever so slightly to offer him a better view, eliciting a moan of excitement from the man.  
Javí removed the shorts, and they lay down about an arm’s length apart facing one another, each bathing in the other’s unmasked admiration. There was no rush. Alex’s thumb caressed the happy trail up and down Javí’s stomach while his hand had found its way onto her waist and just rested there. Each drank in the other‘s body unashamedly before they allowed their lips to meet in a first kiss.


	18. Sunday Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javí and Alex had sex - though that really sounds too uninspired.

When Alexandra woke there was sunlight flooding the room and it smelled of Sunday – the warm air carried delicious whiffs of baking and fresh coffee through the half-open window. She smiled to herself blissfully as her body was still riding out the waves of the past hours‘ pleasures. So 'it' had actually happened: 

Javí and she had had sex, 

though that sounded far too uninspired. Obscenity wouldn‘t do it any justice either. Alex blushed at the memory of Javí’s body skillfully moving with hers and she shuddered at the realisation of just how perfect he had felt inside her. She remembered his lips planting tiny kisses to her ribs, the same lips teasing the soft flesh of her inner thighs. She stretched and found the space beside her empty. Of course, Javí wouldn’t stay for breakfast, she thought. He didn’t seem the kind and maybe it was just as well. She didn’t suppose she was in a fit state for company right now anyway (maybe he wasn't either). She felt light and at the same time her entire body was screaming for more of what they’d done. The man sure knew his way around a woman’s body. She felt hollow without him. She actually missed him. God, how had they gotten there in such a short time? Alex heaved a sigh and forced herself out of bed. Distant church bells were drowned out by birdsong. She noticed that she had no idea what time it was. The curtains moved in the breeze and she shivered slightly as she padded into the main room.


	19. Butterflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javí is one to stay for breakfast. And he realises that Alex has raised the bar.

“¡Buenos días, Alexita!“ a gentle voice said from across the room. When had he turned Spanish on her? Alex‘ yawn became an infectious smile and she looked at her- lover? Partner? Boyfriend? Javí (yes, let's stick with "Javí" for the time being - just Javí) was fully dressed and he looked fresh. He was lounging in an armchair, balancing a book on his knees. Alex‘ astonishment did not go unnoticed and Javí pointed out that he had given her no reason to believe he’d just leave after a night like this. He had snuck out, briefly, to get breakfast, but he had also come back. Alex made out some paper bags and two bottles of milk on the kitchen counter.

“Which is it: cacao or coffee?“ he got up and closed the distance between them. Alex stood unsteadily (at which Javí’s lips twitched in self-confidence) and responded to his kiss. She inhaled the mixture of coffee, Camel, Tabac and something else that was uniquely Javí. Alexandra thought of their first tentative kiss that had soon turned into something needy and demanding and that had led to a lot of other things. Javí breathed something that sounded like "caliente" into the corner of her mouth and she was quite sure he wasn't refering to the drinks. Chocolate sounded great and she was also curious about what might be in those bags. Javí offered her a smile so radiant it would have outshone the sun and let the naked woman sway to the bathroom. His eyes raked over her and he would have loved to join her for her shower. He had not missed the sated smile on her face, and he had noted the misty look in her eyes. Last night had been special for both of them, it seemed, maybe because it had just happened. It hadn’t been planned to be the all-nighter that it had become and that had totally blown his mind. They had taken their time examining, exploring, experimenting. He could still feel the gentle pecks to his collarbone and gulped at the memory of her teasing fingers ghosting over uncharted territory. He remembered how eagerly Alex had at one point clasped his shoulders and how that grasp had slackened under his services. Muy caliente indeed.

He put the milk into a pot and arranged the pandebonos on some plates while Alexandra freshened up. When she joined him, she was wearing a soft fleecy bathrobe and had a towel wrapped around her head. She graced him with a captivating smile and curled up in the spare armchair. She wondered what he had been reading and Javí held up Lake Wobegon Days. It was a good read and a welcome distraction from the job. It turned out that Javí was quite fond of reading when he got round to it. He had even had a go at writing his own story, but he had given up. He might get back to it once he‘d retired. 

When the milk came to a boil, Javí filled two mugs and handed one to Alex. He moved smoothly and slid back into the armchair with his mug. Alex observed his actions and realised just how hard she was crushing on him. She took one of the rolls and plucked it apart, dunking the pieces into her chocolate. They talked about the books they had enjoyed most, shared some highschool stories, and discovered that both of them had (quite unsuccessfully) sung in a choir. They laughed together, and it felt natural.  
They finished their chocolates, and Javier got up to refill. Alex craned her neck at his thoughtfulness and whispered that he was selling himself well. He paused for a moment. It had sounded so clichéd. He was good in bed and he had probably been at his best with her. But he was more than that. He had never made anybody breakfast before. Nor had he sat drinking hot chocolate with them. Then again, no other night had been as intense. Staying for this, doing these mundane things for her -with her- seemed right. It wasn’t part of a plan. Alex was setting new standards. Like him, she knew what she wanted and how to get it, and like him she also gave generously. They had trusted one another completely and unconditionally, and Javí was still coming to terms with the fact. He remembered his hand on her pelvis at some point during the early hours, just resting there, not doing anything. He had felt the over-sensitised flesh quiver under his palm as she slumbered through the ripples of a fast-building climax and came gently with only so much as a soft moan. The sound had been the sexiest thing he had ever heard and he knew the image of the sleeping woman coming undone to his touch would stay with him forever. He also remembered their soothingly entwined hands in-between extensive acts of love-making. That gesture had been novel but not unwelcome. It had made him feel loved.

Office talk had it that Javí was a man for quick jobs and one night stands, that he was commanding and that he talked a lot during sex, Alex divulged. Javí frowned at the rumors. That wasn’t him. He treated all of his dates with respect. He behaved like a grown up and gave the ladies a good time. Pace depended on the situation. He conceded to being communicative to a certain degree before and after, which seemed only fair in view of his motivation. He wouldn’t describe himself as commanding, and Alex agreed. Javí‘s reputation was unequivocally questionable. He was a playboy, but she didn‘t have him down as pushy. There were a lot of juicy stories around. None of them was in line with last night’s experience. All the mystery around Javier Peña came down to the man being a highly considerate lover. He wondered what she was thinking, and when he saw her blush, he took a guess. And suddenly he felt the butterflies he’d been ignoring all morning. He was genuinely head over heels in love with this woman.


	20. Two Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're genuinely in love.

People at the office noticed the change, of course. Alex and Javí seemed to have grown on one another. And why not? They had always made a good team, they merely worked together more intuitionally. What they did on the job was effective. It got Team results and it pissed off Jim. Even the Boss was impressed. They focused on the tasks at hand (anything else would have landed them in deep shit) and kept their hands off one another at work. Without realising they kept their love private.

After another successful bust, they celebrated with Jim, Gonzales, and Stock, drinking late into the night and telling shitty stories and even crappier jokes. Alexandra settled on a seat between Jim and Javí, both men resting their inward arms on the backrest to give her some space. Occasionally, Javí’s hand brushed her shoulder as if by accident, and when she looked at him sideways he winked at her. If the other men noticed, they didn’t let it on.  
Jim eventually staggered off into the night with the two older men, and Javier and Alexandra walked home - like colleagues/friends at first, but holding hands when they could be sure the others were out of sight. The night was mild and there was a full moon casting an eerie light on the apartment block. When Alexandra stopped outside theirs to rummage for her keys, Javier realised that he had never told anyone he loved them. For a moment, he wondered what to say and how to say it. He thought on little things they did, sweet gestures, kind words, and smiles. He loved her smile, he thought to himself. When she arrived at the office about three weeks after him, she had seemed arrogant. She had confidently followed Jim to their desk and Javier had looked up at the two blond people in a mixture of jealousy and fear. She had tilted her head trying to see what he was working on and made a comment so saucy it caught him totally off-guard. She and Jim had looked too perfect together, tall, fair, slender. They had frightened him because they were white and because they were beautiful. They would have one another’s back, not his. Her joke had changed the temperature in the room, and when she smiled at him and shook his hand, his heart had melted. 

Somehow she had chosen him. She had seen past all his failures (of which there weren’t too many, to be fair) and flaws (of which there were plenty) and she loved him. He realised that she had made herself at home in both parts of his heart: the passionate, volatile Mexican part of it and the stable, cautious American part which kept him grounded. He wasn’t usually torn between them. He had gotten used to being the beaner back in Texas just as he had gotten used to being the gringo down here. That Mexican DEA. He somehow never seemed to fit in.  
He thought of her in English which surprised him as it was the language he used to give his thoughts structure. She would usually pop up in Spanish. Like now.

“¡Te amo!“ he said and Alex felt a lump in her throat. She told him he didn’t have to say these things. She saw the love in his eyes, felt it when he was around her, felt it now. He didn’t need to tell her. He insisted and switched languages. Alex sighed. He did this from time to time, she had noticed. She couldn't make out a pattern. At first, she had assumed that it was about the sex. He was freer then. During. And after. And around. Uncaged. But it wasn't exclusively that. She wondered if he switched to Spanish when he was truly happy and relaxed. When he felt safe. He was fluent in English, too, perfectly capable of expressing himself, so she didn't think that this was about language barriers. He seemed to be more demure in English, bordering on cold at times. He seemed to keep things in perspective more. She didn't think he was conflicted though. Or that it was a conscious choice. It just happened.  
“¡Yo también … te amo!“ she rarely spoke Spanish and added that it probably sounded terrible at which Javí laughed. Her accent was quite strong, yes, but the words had sounded nice, so he asked her to say them again  
and again  
and again (each time correcting her pronunciation) until she chuckled that she hated him.  
“No, you don’t. You just said otherwise – repeatedly,“ he flirted and put his arms around her waist.  
“By means of coercion, Agent Peña,“ she gave him a wicked smile.  
“Are you saying you lied?“ Javí pressed himself against Alex, locking her between the door and his body, and she shook her head before pulling his face to hers and kissing him.

The night was calm and peaceful. There were other couples walking, groups of people chatting and smoking, on their way to some club or on their way back from some. A couple of motorbikes chased along. The two agents felt safe. They didn’t know they were being watched; they didn’t hear the lense flicker shut when their intimate moment was caught on film.


	21. Lunchbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New photographs arrive at the office, and Alex and Javí are in them.

Three weeks later, the photograph arrived at the station. The envelope sat on Javier’s in-tray all morning, but the man was busy and just ignored it. Only when he lit the last cigarette from the pack he had started the night before and got up for his lunchbreak did he have a look. He had expected photographs, of course, but he hadn’t expected this. The picture showed Alexandra and him holding hands. Javier cursed under his breath and put the picture back. Then he rolled up the envelope and pushed it down the front of his trousers.  
Fuck, they were in deep shit now. He needed to speak to Alexandra. He also knew he would have to speak to Bruce Stock about this -them- and Escobar knowing. The supervisor wouldn’t be happy. Javí was definitely in for a lecture. And part of it would be justified.  
“You look like shit,“ Jim said as he shoved past Javier and took off his jacket, and Javier frowned. He probably did. Jim nodded at Javí’s crotch and asked about the photograph. Fuck.  
Javier told Jim who was in them and the blond man whistled. He imagined nudity, a lot of it, Javier fucking Alex on the bonnet in some back alley. The image didn’t seem to work for Alex, but it did for Javier. Jim felt himself grow hard in his pants. Fuck Peña for giving him ideas. Javier watched his partner in disgust. He was quite sure that the blond perv was getting off on the photo. And he hadn’t even seen it!  
“It’s not what you think,“ Javí killed Jim's fantasy, “we’re not naked. We’re not fucking.“  
“Who’s not fucking?“ Alex placed three mugs on the desk and smiled at her colleagues. Javier gaped. Then he sighed and pulled the envelope from his pants, “We aren’t. In this.“  
Alexandra took the photograph from the envelope and her features hardened. How could they have been so careless? She shook her head at the display of affection that spoke from the picture. If this was Escobar, if it was his guys watching them, they knew. And they would use them against one another if they had the chance. Jim jostled the envelope from Alex to verify Javier’s words and made a disappointed face. The photo was absolutely lame. It showed practically nothing. He had definitely hoped for something more explicit. Given Javier’s track record, he felt it was only natural to expect ... more. Alex picked up on the blond’s frustration and he admitted that he had expected a bit of a scandal. He met with his colleague’s disbelief and shrugged. At that both told him to fuck off.

It took Jim the whole of his lunchbreak, but when he returned he had figured it out. Alexandra was nowhere to be seen and Javier was filing reports.  
“You’re sleeping with her, aren’t you? (Javier didn’t react.) Bastard.“  
This Peña really got on his goat. He’d fucked every single female person in the building. He’d sometimes heard them in the underground parking lot. He’d also seen him finger one of the secretaries in the car. Not very subtle. But hot. And now he was bedding Alex, too. The dude seriously knew no limits. He probably lived up to his reputation though, Jim mused. He couldn’t see why else a woman like Alexandra Lindy would want to be with the fat-bottomed Mexican.  
On the other hand they seemed to be spending whole days together, he’d heard. Not fucking. Or not exclusively. They cooked and then did whatever it was they were doing. They weren't particularly noisy. He hadn’t actually witnessed anything. He had no idea of what was going on between them and how long it had been going on.  
“Six months,“ Javier said quietly as if he couldn't believe it himself.  
“Six MONTHS?!“ Wow. Wait, was he saying, every night?  
“Most nights.“  
Jim hadn’t noticed. His partners were easy with one another at work. They kept up their good-natured banter. There wasn’t really a change to ‘before.‘ Though now that he put his mind to it there had been hidden glances, sometimes a fleeting touch, nothing obvious, certainly nothing possessive. He sometimes drove her home. Sometimes she drove him. He remembered Javier slipping her a note once. She had put it into her jacket, and when they were out of sight, Jim had snooped. It had been a shopping list. He had been sure they were having him on because they knew he’d expect something off-color. Now it dawned on Jim that the note had been real. It had been a shopping list. They were doing the relationship thing. Plus … he hadn’t seen any of Javí’s lady friends around in a while. Man, this was serious.  
“I’d say you finally got your shit together,“ Jim stopped himself from slapping Javí's back when he saw the troubled look on his face. Javier was scared.


	22. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javí doesn't want to lose Alexandra.

For the first time since he had started working with him, Javí looked really unhappy to Jim. Part of him was enjoying the fact. Man, he really hated the beaner. He’d seen him walk around with this cowboy swagger, checking out the dames, winking at them, grabbing their asses or groping them for information, it really had him riled up. Well, Javí didn’t look so smart now. Jim sneered and sat on the edge of the desk. He really hated Peña’s guts. Those damn-sad eyes even made vulnerable look hot. If they noticed, Steve would put money on it, the secretaries would soon be all over his partner to comfort him.  
“What do you think they’re up to?“ Jim asked and Javí ran a hand over his mustache and shook his head. He had no idea. This photograph was meant to freak him out. It was a threat, but he didn’t think they would actually harm DEA agents. This was about him. They were fucking with him.

Javier remembered the night of the raid and the sight of Cristina’s destroyed body. That was the kind of mind-fuck Escobar was playing at. They’d kill the extras because they knew they were getting away with it. The T-shirt had just been coincidence. There was no way Pablo had known his feelings for Alexandra before he himself had. They had killed Cristina because they knew he was seeing her regularly. They had guessed that she was an informant.  
He told Jim as much, but the blond dickhead was lost on the T-shirt. Javier explained that he was talking about Alexandra‘s Stones shirt, the one she had been wearing all the time. Jim gave an ignorant shrug and said that he didn’t think she was wearing it anymore. Javier sighed. No, she wasn’t wearing it anymore. She had given the shirt to him. That was how it -them- had started. Well, more or less. 

Javí remembered that night when she had given him her favorite shirt. Their raid had gone apeshit, they’d left her at the scene. The image of the shock on her face when the van had pulled away still haunted him in his worst nightmares. He recalled whispering to her from the passenger window. He had promised then that he would come back for her, and he had – but she was gone. And when he found that body he had lost it. It (not she – there had been nothing human left about her) had been destroyed. He remembered feeling sick at the sight. He had seen lots of bodies before. He had seen victims of rape. But knowing that it was, had been, Alexandra, had twisted his heart and torn it to pieces. He didn’t remember much after that. There had been four unfortunate sicarios and he had made a quick job of them. Then he had broken down next to what he had thought was his partner and his mind had gone completely blank. After he couldn’t say how long, Team had taken him in. He couldn’t have cared less if they’d sent him home then, charged him with brutality, shot him. Nothing had mattered anymore.  
It hadn’t been her. When he realised, he had blacked out. And when she gave him her shirt, he had fought the tears that he’d been denying himself. It had been just the two of them in that cupboard of a room. She had stood next to him and she had stripped down to her underwear – despite his reputation, despite the situation, despite the implications. He hadn’t said -or done- anything. He had just been relieved to know that she was alive. His infatuation with her had started way before that night, but it had been one-sided, or so he had thought.

Javí remembered the night when she had shown up at his door totally unexpectedly. It had been late, he had been in pain, and she had taken care of him. It had left him speechless. They had been colleagues for quite some time, and they had gotten along well, but they hadn’t been friends or anything. He had secretly fancied her, but he would never have acted on it. That night, when she had touched him, purposefully, gently, he had fallen in love with Alexandra Lindy. Not madly. Sweetly. He had been grateful for her efficiency and grateful for the tiny acts of affection. Like rubbing his shoulder or resting a hand on his back. None of it had been sexual, and yet (or maybe because they hadn’t been) those touches had reached his heart. Looking after him that night had been the kindest thing a woman had ever done to him. It had been then that he had started hoping he might stand a chance.  
“You love her,“ Jim stated and Javier nodded.  
The dark man remembered those early stages, Alex falling asleep against his back on a third stake-out night in a row, Alex smiling at him when he had bought cakes for her birthday (Jim hadn’t even remembered the date), Alex touching his arm when they discussed maps and plannings. He remembered waiting up for her without her ever knowing, thinking of her when she wasn’t there, dreaming about her hands on his body – gentle hands allowing for closeness to grow. He had been quite happy to just be in a room with her, watch her, listen to her voice. And she had offered so much in return. She had been nice towards him, bringing him coffee or checking his lighter was working although she hated his smoking. She had tried cooking for him and admitted she was a lousy cook. She had scribbled frequencies for a stake-out on his arm (they had been out of paper, yeah, whatever) and she had added a heart. He blushed at the memory of how that had made his pulse quicken. He had kept the tiny drawing for as long as possible wearing long sleeves for a couple of days and pretending to have caught something. He had caught something. And somehow those sleepovers had taken shape. Lying awake for hours, talking, joking, just spending time together. It had been-  
“The Boss’ll have your balls for this,“ Jim broke the spell. He saw the photo as a threat, a message saying they knew the agents were compromising their own operation. Pablo would not act on that, Javier was positive.  
“But Bruce will,“ Jim raised his eyebrows and the other man nodded. That would lead to either Alexandra or him being sent home. He squeezed his eyes shut and cursed. This was the Escobar kind of mind-fuck. He'd make him lose her without actually touching either of them. He'd make them separate him from the one person that made his life worthwhile.


	23. Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex thinks about things.

Alexandra had fled to the roof when she saw the photograph. She wasn’t absolutely sure what to make of it. From a rational point of view it just meant that they were being watched which didn’t really come as a surprise. The cartel kept tabs on their enemies just like the DEA kept tracking theirs. They were at war. Sending the pictures to the station was like sending postcards. The cartel were saying hallo. They were rattling the DEA’s cage. Maybe someone would get scared and slip up. Then they could turn him and bend him.  
So they knew about Javí and her. Alex bit her lip and suddenly wished that she’d smoke. Fiddling with a cigarette, inhaling, blowing rings into the afternoon air would give her something to do. She tried to focus on the message of the photo the cartel had sent: a couple holding hands. Affection. Carelessness. A link weakening the chain. Someone could have jumped them that night, could have shot them or taken them. Tortured them, killed them slowly – or worse, broken them and let them go. Images of violence flashed before her mind’s eye. One common set-up with the cartels was rape. They could have raped her before Javí’s eyes. They could have made him rape her. She swallowed hard. She couldn’t unthink it and tried to calm herself. Javí would never do such a thing, not even if they threatened to take his life if he refused. So they would kill him. And rape her. Which they would, even if Javí chose differently.  
She hated to think of Javí as a weak link. He was the sweetest and kindest man she knew. Half a year ago, she wouldn’t have realised. He had been a colleague and a neighbor. At work, he had been focussed and efficient, and yet he had always found the time to be funny and charming. She believed that his attitude was what made his job bearable. She had seen him brooding, too. He’d work impossible hours, filing, reading, typing. Some days, when she turned into work, she had found him asleep at his desk using his arms as a makeshift pillow. Some days, he had actually made it to the stretcher in the storeroom. As a neighbor, he had been negligent. He had had A LOT of company over, and he had changed his company A LOT. She had seen the women come and go. She had never heard anything though, but she had heard the stories. And she had wondered why he did it. She had had him down as quite likeable from the start, but he had stubbornly retained his casanova reputation.  
She had quietly prided herself for quite some time on touching his tasty behind, the legendary Peña ass, incidentally, inconsiderately, after tending to some nasty injuries to his back. It had felt nice. She remembered staring at him when he was leaning into his desk. Once, when he had lounged on it, he had made for a maddeningly attractive sight. He had caught her staring and had naturally had her on. She had brushed it off as curiosity. Perky Peña had vaunted that there were other parts of his body larger-than-life, too. But he had said it in a self-deprecating way that had made her laugh. Still, he hadn’t lied.  
It was the banter that she loved about him. No one else could deliver puns as mercilessly as he could. He was surprisingly literate and sharp-witted though he did not immediately let it on, but if you spent a lot of time around him, you couldn’t fail noticing.  
He was also caring. She remembered situations when Javí had looked after her, and in those flickers of sympathy she had often sensed something else, something that was more than friendship, but she hadn’t been sure. Once, during one of the rare fields they did together, he had given her a backrub. Another time, he had brought her cakes. He had even bought her flowers, well, he had given her a rose and that had been meant as a joke. She remembered how his constant lack of sleep had eventually gotten the better of him and how he had fallen asleep against her shoulder. Her arm had gone numb after a while, then the whole side of her body that supported his weight, but she had refused to move, afraid he might wake up. He had looked so peaceful and relaxed that she had been incapable of shaking him. She had wondered if he knew. If he was aware of just how effortlessly handsome he was. She didn’t think so. She had come to realise that he put a lot of work into his image. He took care of his body much more than Jim. He shaved more neatly and he used less product on his hair. He perspired, which was hardly avoidable under the Colombian sun, but he didn’t stink. Carillo did. Javí smelled good, she found. She liked his aftershave which mixed with the cigarettes and the sweat. She liked the fresh smell of his clothes. Cothes that were always pressed and clean at that. She appreciated the chewing gum between cigarettes. All of it covered his own scent, raw Javí, only partially.  
Alexandra sighed and rested her head against the low wall around the staircase.  
She thought back to this crazy night of the raid when she had had to make her way back to the station alone. She had been frightened before, but she had been terrified then. Running for her life, she had kept her mind focussed on Javier, the asshole that had just fucked off. She had nurtured the rage and had gotten ready to bite his head off. She had imagined punching him. She had even contemplated shooting him in his legendary dick. But he had denied her that revenge. He hadn’t been at the station because he had gone back to get her. Why would anybody in their right mind do that? It had been incredibly stupid of him. Looking back at it, she thought that he had acted on instinct. And he had suffered for it. She had only seen one blurred polaroid, but Javier had stumbled upon that body. He had thought it was her because of that bloody T-shirt, and he had reacted strangely emotionally. She had given him her shirt that night. It had seemed the right thing to do to comfort him. She hadn’t really thought about it. It had seemed logical. And he had kept it. She smiled to herself.  
After that night, she had tried to understand him and to make sense of his actions. She had gotten closer to him and she had noticed that he wasn’t disaffected. He had found ways of fleetingly touching her, handing her pens or mugs and brushing her fingers with his, leaning onto her rather than the filing cabinet during briefings, sitting close to her so their knees or even thighs would touch. He had also put her into his clothes quite a lot. When she told him that she was decorating her walls, he had given her one of his shirts as a workcoat. When she forgot to bring a jacket to a stake-out, he had given her his. He had been cold, but he hadn’t complained. He had also regularly offered her one of the few jumpers he owned. He wasn’t wearing them anyway. And when they had dinner together, they would sit up late and she would eventually feel cold. He knew that, so he had always had a jumper handy.  
She would miss him, she thought. Of course, they would make one of them leave. He had been here longer, so it was her call. She’d be transferred. It would be for their good. Maybe they’d even transfer both of them. They wouldn’t place them together though.  
Alex sighed again and closed her eyes. So this was where it ended. Just like that. It was over.


	24. $300,000

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javí makes for an attractive hostage.

“Hey,“ a soft voice interrupted her inner turmoil and Alexandra looked up at Javier who was lighting a cigarette. He denied her request to let her have one too. It was a lousy habit she shouldn’t start. Alex scolded him for patronising her and he grinned and sat down beside her.  
He told her that he had filed the photograph with the others. He hadn’t spoken to anyone but Jim.  
“I’ve got this,“ he said and Alex felt all but reassured at his fixed stare and set jaw. Javí was close to losing it, she realised, but he was forcing himself to keep his calm as he explained how they could stay under the radar. They shouldn’t go out together for the time being, shouldn't be seen with one another. The risk of being kidnapped was high if that was what Escobar wanted. There was a bounty of $300,000 on his head, one of $200,000 on hers. He’d checked.  
“You’re worth more than I am,“ Alex tried to sound offended which she wasn‘t. Bounties on male DEA were higher. And Javí was Search Bloc on top of it, a valuable hostage, not just another DEA agent. Javier snorted at the remark. He didn’t see it that way even if, from a qualification point of view, he was the more attractive target. The abduction of a female agent would be far more traumatic, he knew. And a broken agent was of no use, so the bounties were rarely paid. He didn’t voice these things. Alex knew as well as he did.  
They would go to work and catch up later. No one could possibly know what they did at home. They could still get away with it.  
Javier bit his lip. Who was he kidding here? It was just a matter of time till things would go to shit. Till they'd figured out where they had been headed the night of the photograph. Till they'd show up outside the apartment. He didn't dare bet on when that would be, but he hoped they'd still have some time. Deep inside, he knew they didn't have much; they had been lucky so far and now they were running out of luck.

Luck.

Javier remembered the week before when they had fucked up at a witness’s house. They had gotten the children out of the building. The husband, too. But in a matter of seconds, things had gone downhill and one of the sicarios had put a bullet into Mrs. Tiburcio‘ head. Search Bloc had gotten him, but there was nothing they could have done for the woman. Javí remembered cursing and kicking the jeep’s front tyre in despair. He had signalled Team to withdraw when his eye had caught Alex’s. She had gotten to her knees next to Mr. Tiburcio and his children, pulled him into a hug and patted his head when he started screaming. She had muttered meaningless comfort into his ear and had tried to calm him, but he had been sobbing uncontrollably. Javí had stood frozen and watched the scene. The children had seemed alright, if a bit shaken. But the widower who was crying in his partner’s arms had really gotten to him. Alex had frowned at Javí, but he had been unable to move. He had just stared at the broken man and had felt almost as shattered as he.  
This could easily have been him, he had realised then. All it would take was one wrong decision. One wrong move. One slip-up. Things moved so fast down here, and he could quickly end up dead. Alexandra could end up dead. Hell, this could happen any day! Then it would be him falling apart in somebody’s arms. Or maybe he’d just put a gun to his own head. He couldn’t lose her.

Alexandra cast him a sideward glance. He was grinding his teeth, but for now, he was holding up. Alex wondered what was going on in his head. Javí swallowed and flicked his cigarette to the ground. His hands were unsteady, she noted, and put a hand on his leg.  
“You once asked about this,“ he gestured at his left side and ran his thumb down his shirt where she knew it covered a scraggy scar. Alexandra remembered. He hadn’t answered back then, but she had seen the anguish painted all over his face. This wasn’t just any old scar. This ran deeper than the flesh it had broken. Javí’s voice was small when he told her, collected – but heart-wrenchingly sad. He had been stabbed because he had trusted someone. He had let his guard down and that had nearly had him killed. Ever since, he had avoided genuine intimacy. Alex listened and understood.

“Life’s so fucking short,“ he whispered eventually, “it’s funny really, how, in the end, I think we won’t regret the things we did – but the things we didn’t do.“ Alex watched him and did not interrupt. Javí took a deep breath. He was scared of losing her. Scared of saying the wrong things. He needed more background, so he asked if she regretted marrying George.  
“No,“ she answered. But she regretted not divorcing him sooner.  
“Would you do it again?“ His voice was wary and he was facing away from her. Suddenly, Alex was sure where this was going. Javier was proposing to her. He was making a mess of it, but he was definitely building up tension. Yes, she would do it again, she said truthfully, if the right person asked properly.  
Javí was still facing away. The right person, he thought. He remembered the last time he'd asked somebody the question. That had been years ago, in 1982, and he had been greener then, a different man. She had manipulated him, had told him she was having his child. So he had done what everybody expected from him. He hadn't wanted to get married, but he had accepted the responsibility. When she told him she wasn't having a baby after all, that she had in fact never been pregnant, he had left. He'd packed his shit, gotten into his car, and driven away - the day before the wedding. He had called her when he was miles away. It hadn't gone down well with her. Or her family or the rest of their Laredo community. But it -they- wouldn't have worked even if he'd gone through with the wedding. Divorce would only have been a matter of time, and he would have ended up persona non grata anyhow. Still, after all these years, he felt bad about what happened. The right person. Was that him?  
“I'm pretty sure it is,“ she answered the unspoken question, and Javier’s heart missed a beat. She’d say yes, if he asked properly! This was sink or swim. He could still brush it off as a joke, run away again. He could also commit himself, his future, his life to her. The idea terrified him. Maybe more than the prospect of dying did. He felt the lump in his throat. He had absolutely no idea what to say and then he knelt – shifted around and onto his knees, took her hand into his trembling ones, and forced himself to look her in the eye.  
“Will you … have me?“ was not the most elaborate way of putting it, but Alex got the idea. She looked at the handsome man before her and almost laughed at how nervous he was. He was frowning and trying to smile at the same time. The look he gave her was panicked and his hands were shaking so bad that she wanted to tell him to sit back down. She could see that he was shit-scared offering her his all. He was giving himself to her, forever, if she wanted him.

She did.


	25. Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another photograph arrives at the office, and Bruce Stock flashes into action.

Bruce Stock had spent the night up and the morning on the phone with the ambassador. He felt tired. Day in, day out, it was the same routine, the same chicken game. They were flirting with fire, walking a tightrope, running along the edge. They took risks and he tried to keep his men safe. Most of them had a bounty on their heads these days, some of them more than one. But they kept going. Some needed the money, others wanted the money. Some wanted an adventure. Some wanted to get Escobar, the biggest fish they’d ever catch in their career – until the next big fish came along.  
The DEA operated from Bogotá, just far enough from Medellín to cover their tracks. DEA agents would fly out for day jobs mainly. Going by car would have been a suicide mission. Convoys could easily be stopped by road blocks, agents be trapped and shot or kidnapped and tortured. Bruce had been to many funerals over the past years, far too many. Search Block had its command center at the Medellín police academy. Elite officers of the National Colombian Police would stay there and be joined by Search Block DEA on weekdays. Weekend stays were far too risky. Most drive-by shootings and car bombings happened on weekends. That was why Bruce didn't want his men out there for more than a couple of days in a row. The risk of being found out and followed was high.

Bruce fell into his office chair and pulled out his lunchbox when a brown envelope caught his eye. Again. He gave his lunchbox a good shove and ripped the envelope open. It contained one photograph of Javier Peña pinning fellow Agent Alexandra Lindy to the door of his Bogotá house and apparently grinding into her. His hands were on her hips and hers were around his neck and the situation could hardly be misread. Bruce muttered some curses and fished out his notebook. He didn’t give a shit about his agents fucking one another. What he did give a shit about was their safety. The photo showed the two lovebirds outside their apartment building. The Medellín Cartel knew where they could find them and they were sending a warning. Bruce picked up the phone and made sure that Alexandra Lindy was still in her press conference at the embassy. Then he gave orders to Search Block to keep her there. Finally, he rang Peña’s land line. The agent that picked up sounded as tired as he felt. “Javier. Get out of there. Now. Pablo Escobar knows where you are,“ he could hear Javier’s breathing and his unspoken question and decided to add that Mrs. Peña was safe.


	26. Most

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They haven't gotten married ... yet.

When Javier arrived at the embassy after what must have been the most surreal drive of his life, he instantly scanned the room for Alexandra. The woman was standing next to the snack machine, and he crossed over to pull her into a tight hug.  
Bruce Stock watched the two agents curiously. He had never seen Peña like this. He admitted to himself that had expected something a bit more passionate (after all, his agent had a reputation), but maybe he‘d just had Javier down as a totally different man from the one he was seeing now. The Mexican seemed to have found a kindred spirit under the worst of circumstances. Of course, he had known about the two of them for a while. He also knew the other photo, the one that Javier had snuck in with the others with a day’s delay. A couple holding hands in Downtown Bogotá. It was a nice photograph if you didn’t take into account who had taken it and why. He had waited for Javier to come clean, and when he hadn’t, Bruce had put two men outside the apartment block. From what they had reported back, Javier and Alex hadn’t gone out except for work over the past five days. They hadn’t behaved suspiciously, but they had seemed tense and watchful. They hadn’t taken things lightly. They had stayed focussed on the job. Bruce credited both of them with that.  
Watching their embrace, Bruce thought that they looked like two frightened kids holding on to one another for dear life and he hated what he had to do.  
“You can use the spare room,“ he told Javier when he finally crossed the room to meet him and handed him the key to the tiny guest room they used for emergency placements, “make the most of it. This will probably be your last night together for a long time.“ Javier nodded and gulped.  
Bruce turned and started walking away when Javí said: “It’s not Mrs. Peña … yet.“  
Bruce heaved a sigh at the confession. He had never heard his cheeky agent sound so small and lost. Of course, he knew that they hadn't gotten married. When Javier had asked his contact at the embassy to wed them, quietly, unceremoniously, the registrar had reported back to his supervisor. DEA agents were not supposed to get this close to one another, and the registrar hadn’t been too keen on getting into trouble. Bruce had listened to the man’s concerns and had given the go-ahead. Why make things even harder for them? Bruce patted Javier’s arm and wished them good luck.


End file.
